


City Of Stone

by orphan_account



Series: Batjokes multichoice entries [5]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU-gods, Batjokes, Gods, M/M, Religious Imagery, batjokesmultichoice, freaky things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham is the City of Stone, worshipping their Bat-god and their Clown-god, until when the times when they are strong and independent enough for gods to fade and become human-<br/>But fate would always tie it's red string around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	City Of Stone

They were worshiped, as gods. Statues scatters around Gotham City, newly erected and as ancient as the city of stone itself. Statues, new and cracked, worn down and shining, of the city’s dark knight and clown prince, was everywhere.

“Look, bats. They worship us.” The Joker would whisper and Batman never answers, but he knows that it is true, ever since times long gone, too long ago that it is impossible to remember, back when they has a reason to fight instead of just fighting for the sake of it. They see children building small mud monuments out of water and sand, laughing and playing the games, with little bats and little clowns everywhere, hidden in the scent, the walls, the graffiti and the people. “We should show them just who we really are.”

A long, long time ago, centuries, even a millennium ago, they were younger. Gods, they were. Fuelled by war and blood and hate and love and chaos and justice. They fought like there was no tomorrow. Only the slamming of fists against flesh, fists against fists and flesh against flesh. They were born for each other. Through the years and years of fighting and storms and terrifying nights, Gotham grew up. The people learned, and the gods, seeing that everything is settling into place, begins to fade away.

Because even gods die. As soon as the number of people that truly believed them dwindle, their energy levels drop. They fade away. In a way, they die. Their lives starts over again, as humans or animals, or anything else with a shred of life in them. You could say that all humans are once gods. Batman and the Joker are the last two left in this world, hanging on by the shreds of belief held by the public of Gotham. But even now, this mother of crime is being rebuilt- they knocked down the statues, builds new, modern buildings over their bases and forbid children to learn about those they used to fear and revere.

“We should show them, you know.” Joker tells Batman, as they continue to watch as the large crane lifts rock. The head of the Batman statue falls to the ground, one of it’s ears finally dropping and rolling off, the weary old statue put to rest, as the more artistic monuments gets moved to various museums.

“Why? You don’t seem to be one who fears death.” Batman asks. They rarely fight anymore. There is just no more point in the bloodshed, the cries and screams of horror as they tore through the streets. He knows the Joker misses those days, but everyone- the people- are just better off when things are like this.

“I don’t.” Joker replies. “It’s just- I don’t wanna forget you, you know? When we finally disappear? Get rebirthed, become just another one of- them.”

Batman nods. He would not admit so, just a hundred years ago. “I- I would miss you. Too.” The statue falls to the ground, construction workers picking up pieces. Of scars, of fear. It was no work of art, but it showed the ugly essence of them. Day by day, the days of ‘New Gotham’ blurred together.

People forgot about them as gods, instead only seeing them as works of art, hushing in amazement at the great statues erected in the middle of the museums and plazas.

“I think it’s time now, batsy-” Joker slurs. They exchange a glance. Poison green eyes are dull, and the fuzzy blue ones are bloodshot. There is no more say, into whether they are going to survive anymore.

“I think it’s time, too.” Batman leans over. There is one last chance, one last farewell between old friends, and old enemies. They lock lips.

In Gotham Central Hospital, a baby boy is born. Dr Thomas Wayne looks proudly at the shock of black hair his son sports, as Martha grins down to her baby boy. “Let’s name him Bruce.”

A mother. Young, blond, and tired of life, sobs as she places the child, her boy, onto the dump. “Good luck.” She whispers, tucking a handful of playing cards in the worn, ratty blanket. Only the Joker card remains, while the others were blown into the wind. Some day, they will meet again.


End file.
